


make the world safe & sound for you

by theMightyPen



Series: who tells your story [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: But also a hint of angst?, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Gen, Good golly miss molly everyone is a literal baby!!, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, sibling shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 01:50:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17613158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theMightyPen/pseuds/theMightyPen
Summary: There's a reason Boromir is so fond of Merry and Pippin. Four of them, in fact.





	make the world safe & sound for you

**Author's Note:**

> Ages:  
> Boromir: 24  
> Faramir: 19  
> Elphir: 15  
> Erchirion: 12  
> Amrothos: 8  
> Lothiriel: 3

* * *

 

_Minas Tirith, September, T.A. 3002_

The room is quiet when Boromir enters.

 _Too_ quiet.

With his four younger cousins visiting from Dol Amroth, _quiet_ tends to be a sign that something very bad is afoot. Or that they’re asleep, but as it is the middle of the day, that seems like an unlikely option.

He spots Elphir first, standing behind one of the larger couches with an exasperated look on his face. It is a familiar enough expression and one the oldest Prince of Dol Amroth often wears when dealing with his siblings.

“Elp--”

“Shh!” Comes a hissed whisper.

Boromir blinks in surprise.

“Fara--”

“ _Shh!_ ”

Elphir waves him over, holding a finger to his lips as he does so. Warily, Boromir makes his way across the room. Ah. Apparently his guess of sleep hadn’t been too far from the truth.

Faramir, slightly red in the face, is pinned down by the weight of a sleeping Lothiriel on his chest, and a sleeping Amrothos across his legs. At three and eight respectively, they cannot be very heavy, though Boromir cannot fault his brother for not wanting to move them. They look much more angelic in sleep than they do in their waking moments. Amrothos is, by all accounts, something of a terror, and Lothiriel is simply too cute for anyone to refuse her anything. Even Boromir is guilty of falling victim to his youngest cousin’s rasping lilt and wide brown eyes.

“How did you end up in this predicament, little brother?” He asks, keeping his voice low and soft.

“Lothiriel needed her nap,” Faramir whispers back, “and I offered to watch her for the afternoon. I am not sure how Amrothos came to be here.”

“He cannot stand to be excluded from something involving you, Faramir,” Elphir offers. “Especially if it also involves Lothiriel. I do not think he has forgiven her yet for taking his place as the baby of the family.”

Boromir snorts, earning a reproachful glare from his brother when Amrothos gives a soft _snuffle_ , burrowing his face deeper into Faramir’s hip.

“And how long have you been here?”

“What time is it?”

Boromir and Elphir turn towards the closest window. By sunlight alone, Boromir would guess it is nearly dusk, given the way the city has become painted with soft grey shadows in place of its customary white.

“Nearly nightfall, I expect,” he says.

Faramir gives a low groan. “At least four hours then.”

“Why not just wake them?”

Elphir’s eyes nearly bug out of his head as Faramir gives him a baleful look.

“I do not think you comprehend,” he says, “how little I am able to do that.”

Boromir’s brow furrows. “You are perfectly capable, Faramir--”

“It’s not a lack of-- _look_ at them, Boromir.”

He does. Amrothos’s hair is plastered messily across his forehead, his mouth open, and his fist gripping the top of Faramir’s boot with all of the tenacity of an oyster. Lothiriel, on the other hand, has her thumb in her mouth, with the other hand curled almost protectively over Faramir’s heart.

They couldn’t be more adorable if they tried.

An added bonus is that they are both mercifully _quiet and still_ for once. Amrothos has a very bad habit of wreaking havoc on valuable family heirlooms, whereas Lothiriel is a veritable font of questions, curious about anything and everything that she deems interesting.

“Ah,” he says.

“Amrothos should stay asleep even if I lift him,” Elphir murmurs. “He slept through the worst gale Dol Amroth has seen in years this summer. But Lothiriel…”

Lothiriel does not like being woken by anyone, for any reason. She is sweet and pleasant enough if she wakes at her own pace, but Elbereth help the poor brother--or cousin--that tried to pull her from slumber before she was good and ready.

“Hm,” Boromir says. “Maybe if we--”

“Why are we whispering?”

Elphir flinches at his brother’s voice. Erchirion ambles over with all the gangly-limbed awkwardness of a twelve year-old. And all the noise as well.

“Erchirion,” he hisses, “be _quiet_ , or--”

But it it is already too late. Amrothos gives a loud yawn, stretching as he does so, inadvertently shoving his hand against Lothiriel’s hip. She stirs, lifting her head with an adorable look of confusion.

“Fara?” She asks.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” He says, running a gentle hand through her hair. “How was your nap?”

In response, she burrows back against his chest, making a grumpy noise as she goes. Amrothos, on the other hand, is sitting up now, blinking up at his brothers and Boromir.

“Were you watching us nap?” He asks. “That’s weird, Elphir!”

Elphir’s face floods with color. “You should be more considerate! You have been using poor Faramir as a pillow for the better part of four hours!”

Amrothos shrugs. “He doesn’t mind.” Abruptly, the thought that he _does_ mind crosses Amrothos’s face, and Boromir has to muffle laughter as he turns worried eyes on Faramir. “Do you, Fara?”

“Not in the slightest,” he promises. “You snore much less than the Rangers do, in any case.”

Amrothos gives a squawk of protest at that, but gamely stands, hurtling towards Boromir as he does so. “Is it time for dinner? I’m starved!”

“Almost. I hope the kitchens have made enough for you, Am, for I am certain you could eat even a Warg out of house and home,” Boromir teases, swinging him up onto his shoulders with ease.

“Wargs don’t _have_ houses, Boromir!”

“Wargs?” Comes Lothiriel’s voice, still thick with sleep. “Wha’sthat?”

Elphir and Erchirion exchange a worried look as she turns her attention to Faramir for a response.

“They are, er….”

“Wolf-like creatures,” Boromir offers.

“With very big teeth!” Amrothos adds helpfully. “And they can eat little girls whole!”

Lothiriel gives a frightened sniff, wrapping her arms around Faramir’s neck as Elphir and Erchirion both reach to give Amrothos’s foot a sound punch.

“But not this little girl,” Faramir promises her. “For she has a veritable army of brothers and cousins to protect her.”

He pokes her stomach, earning a laugh and a smile for his efforts. Still, Lothiriel remains perched on his hip even as he stands, stretching with a groan as he does so.

“Is it any wonder you’re her favorite?” Boromir asks.

“He is only her favorite because he never says no to her,” says Erchirion.

“I will have you know, I _have_ told Lothiriel ‘no’,” Faramir says.

Lothiriel nods. “He said I couldn’t hold his sword.”

Boromir, having also witnessed the exchange in question, grins, adding, “I believe the word ‘until’ was used?”

Faramir pinks. “Until she is at least taller than it.”

They all laugh at that, even Amrothos, who Boromir can feel pouting from where he sits on his shoulders.   

There is a knock at the door. One of Father’s servants enters and smiles at the sight of them. “Good evening, my lords, my lady! Dinner is ready. Lord Denethor asked me to remind you that it should be an early night tonight, so that you will be well rested for tomorrow.”

Boromir and Faramir share a solemn look. They--and Elphir, as Boromir’s squire--return to the field tomorrow. Orcs and Harradrim, peril and danger, long nights and cold days, await them. Boromir can see Lothiriel’s arms tighten around Faramir’s neck even as he feels Amrothos press his cheek to the top of his head. He knows they do not want them to leave. They do not understand it, not fully, what it is they are facing. How could innocence even dream of such evil?

But face it they must. For the sake of their cousins and others like them.

“Let us go see what the cooks have prepared tonight,” Boromir says, keeping his voice light. “Hopefully they have successfully made enough that we might _all_ enjoy it, instead of only Amrothos.”

They all laugh at that, even as Amrothos bemoans abuse and hunger in equal turns.

 _We’ll make it right for them_ , he thinks at the table, smiling as Amrothos shovels food into his mouth despite Elphir’s hissed _manners_ and Erchirion’s eye-rolling, as Lothiriel finally abandons a teasingly-protesting Faramir and claims her customary seat in his lap to eat the leftover bread from his plate, _we’ll keep them safe_.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Hamilton's Dear Theodosia , which made me VERY emotional when applied to these kiddos.


End file.
